


Prisoners

by BWolf_20



Series: Forbidden Love: Michonne/Negan [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Comforting Negan, Conflicted Michonne, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feelings, Gen, Hurting Michonne, Kissing, Loneliness, Loss, Moving On, Prisoner Negan, Rick Grimes considered dead, Season 9 Spoilers, Sequel, emotional struggle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-06 11:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18387935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BWolf_20/pseuds/BWolf_20
Summary: After the Whisperer attack, Michonne feels even more lost and dead inside. Her bedroom has become a prison of sorrow and she can no longer take it. When she thinks back to Negan's kiss and his words, she considers giving him a chance to help her move on.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part 2 fic of "Love for a warrior" so please read that first if you haven't. That was a oneshot, and while I hadn't thought much on writing more for this odd Michonne/Negan pairing, let alone making it a series, I was inspired to add to this story line by IntoTheFire who created a Michonne/Negan fic called "I Am Shell, I Am Bone". It's a great read! So thank you IntoTheFire!

She sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the silence around her and feeling the coolness of the night brush across her skin. It was part of a routine. She would sit there for ten minutes trying not to think. She would just breathe slowly and use that as a way to remind herself that she still had a soul. She was still alive even though others weren’t, and people needed her. After ten minutes, she would quietly sink down on her side of the bed while hoping to get a good night’s sleep. 

A week ago the Whisperers had reintroduced her to heartbreak when they’d snatched up her people and killed them in an unimaginably brutal way. Now the communities were just waiting for a plan of attack. Michonne couldn’t give her input with the other communities; not when she found herself retreating back into the shadows where the rest of the world was cut away from Alexandria. She knew it wasn’t the thing to do, especially now, but she was sinking anyways. Others were seeing it easily. She caught the looks of disappointment and heard whispers about how she might not be fit to be on the council any longer. Now they were finally seeing what she’d come to see in herself after Rick had died. 

They were seeing a dead woman. 

If anyone happened to come into the bedroom at that moment, she was sure they’d confuse her for a walker. With a stiff kind of movement and very little noise, she moved back and slowly laid down on her side of the bed. The other side always remained untouched because that was where Rick…

She shut her eyes and gritted her teeth as if in pain. No. Rick was gone. He was dead. It was just her, yet it didn’t feel that way. 

_“Rick is gone. He’d want you to move on Michonne, for yourself.”_

She wasn’t sure why Negan’s words suddenly rung in her mind. When she let her eyes roam around the darkened room, she assumed it was because the room was no longer a bedroom; not at night anyways. It was a prison. A lonely prison of dreadful silence dampened by sorrow. She imagined Negan’s cell was just the same at night. At least during the day he’d have some activity going on in the form of a visitor or two giving him food or tending to some other need. But at night, he was alone just like she was. 

_“…you’re a warrior Michonne.”_

“I’m not,” she argued aloud, as if they were having that conversation again. She couldn’t be anymore. The fire had gone out, and a group of skin wearing maniacs ensured it wouldn’t return by dumping water on it, or in this case the blood of her friends.

She shuddered when she recalled what happened next. The madman had kissed her. He had kissed her because he’d felt something for her. She had felt nothing for him, yet she hadn’t pulled away. 

Why? 

She still didn’t know, but during the few times she’d thought about it, she felt the slightest thrill deep in her chest. It was like a spark of something that threatened to revive her dead nerves. But it faded whenever she reminded herself that she wasn’t supposed to have that anymore, especially from Negan of all people. He was the psychopath that had killed her friends and made life hell for a frustrating period of time. She had gone out of her way to train herself into sniping him so Alexandria could be safe; so she and Rick could get back to what they’d started building between them. A man like that didn’t feel for others, yet he expressed his interest in her on a romantic level. 

“People can change,” Judith had insisted. 

Michonne didn’t believe that, but somehow in seven years Negan had started looking at her; desiring her according to that kiss. 

Why? 

Didn’t he see there was nothing left in her? She had become a husk going through the motions and standing by strict rules to keep people alive. But the madman had insisted that she was still a warrior. He believed there was still something in her worth going after. 

Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She sat up and dropped a hand over her chest. She really had come to believe she was dead. To add to it, her grasp on the community was slipping away. She looked around the room in a panic. How many nights had she suffered this silent loneliness? She had lost count. How had her day even gone? It was like she hadn’t even been present for it. The only thing she had as an anchor to reality was RJ and Judith, but even they couldn’t fill that particular spot that screamed quietly for the sensations she could only get from another adult. 

Her face crumpled as she drew up her knees. She knew what was happening and it terrified her.

“I can’t lose myself,” she whispered.

 _“You will,”_ Negan reminded her in their past conversation. _“You will lose yourself if you don’t let go.”_

She shook her head in disbelief. How was it that Negan was the only one to warn her? How was it that he believed there was still something there inside of her?

She gripped the sheets on her sides as if to keep herself from floating away. The empty space next to her was as cold as she felt and had been for a long time. There needed to be a body there. She needed somebody, someone more than her children to anchor her back down to the present. Her closest friends had always told her that they understood the trauma that plagued her. Everyone had lost somebody, and it was one of the things that still kept them connected. But even her closest friends couldn’t see the things that Negan saw in her. He had once accused her of being scared of ending up like him, with everything and everyone that she loved gone. It was his attempt to form a connection to her, because he had nothing and no one. When she thought about it now, she felt like it was slowly coming true.

How long before she lost her connection with the people and her friends? Was it possible that she’d lose her connection to Judith, and maybe even RJ? She choked up when she thought about them being taken away to be cared for by someone else because she had become too far gone. 

“I can’t…I can’t,” she growled.

She had to hold on.

 _“…you don’t have to keep doing this,”_ came Negan’s words once more.

“I don’t want to keep doing this,” she muttered. She didn’t want to keep struggling against this current of emptiness that kept pushing her under. She wanted to be free of it and let go.

Negan knew how to help her let go, but it wasn’t right. Or was it? She didn’t know. She supposed the only way to know was to talk to Negan; revisit the situation that had happened after he kissed her. After that day, she had avoided him as much as possible, but when she didn’t she never brought up that moment between them, and for the most part he barely did. She had ignored any references he’d made to it, but she never forgot.

Slowly she laid back down and pulled the covers up to her shoulder. She stared out into the darkness, imagining what the next day would be like. Butterflies seemed to be dancing in her belly then, but they soon faded away as she shut her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Butterflies swarmed madly in Michonne’s stomach as she approached the jail with Negan’s breakfast in hand. It was almost as if she’d gone back to her teenaged days where she’d felt that natural nervousness at confronting a crush. She knew it couldn’t have meant anything. It was just an awkward situation. 

Negan gave her a smile that had become wider than usual ever since the day he pressed his lips against hers. 

“Well shit, is it my birthday or something? I don’t remember ever getting treated to pancakes.”

Michonne dropped her eyes to the plate and gave a shrug.

“We had batter left over. It’s better not to let it go to waste.”

“Something wrong with your refrigerators?”

“I believe in using the batter right away.”

He happily got up from his cot and reached for the tray that she slid under the bars. She pulled up the chair and simply watched him take delight in pouring the cup of syrup over the pancakes. After a moment she dropped her eyes. The butterflies were gone, replaced by irritation.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” she admitted as if ashamed. She had talked casually with him on rare occasions, but certainly not as much as Judith, and never about anything highly personal. 

“I’m sure doctor baby daddy can get you something for it,” Negan said without looking up from his meal.

“This isn’t something Siddiq can fix with medication.”

This piqued his interest as he met her eyes. Michonne stared into the dark orbs that had always looked so deceptive. 

“Something wrong?”

There was genuine concern in his tone. She could hear it easily enough and she was, touched by it. 

“I was holding on too tight. Even though he’s gone, I couldn’t let it go. You were right,” She couldn’t look at him any longer after acknowledging that much. It had always frustrated her whenever Negan made a good point about something, but this time it felt worse. “I was losing myself. I knew it, but I allowed it. And last night I…I…”

She heard a _clink_ sound and saw that Negan had set his tray aside as he approached the bars. His brow was furrowed curiously.

“You what? Tell me sweetheart.”

She wanted to be annoyed at the nickname, but wasn’t. Instead she shook her head and shut her eyes.

“I couldn’t breathe. I just couldn’t catch my breath.” She sighed heavily and dropped her head against her hands. “Every night I follow the same routine. I try to clear my head for ten minutes. Sometimes it works, but sometimes it doesn’t. I thought that was okay, but after last night…maybe it would’ve been different if you hadn’t kissed me.”

She was sure she hadn’t mistaken the brief flash of fear in his eyes. He smoothed it over with his classic shit eating grin.

“So that’s what this is about. I didn’t realize I left such an impression on you.” He dropped his eyes and the smile faded slightly. “Was the pancakes a last meal kind of thing? Gonna kill me for expressing how much I’ve come to care about you?”

“No,” she said quietly. “You crossed a line, but, in a way you showed me that I should move on. I’m tired of struggling and holding onto something that isn’t there anymore. I want…to let go.”

“With me,” Negan stated softly.

Michonne was speechless for a minute. All she could do was stare into his face. He looked hopeful, but ready to throw out a smirk. He had insisted back then that she was denying her feelings for him. Had she pulled away when he pressed his lips on hers, he wouldn’t have fallen under the delusion that she was interested. Still, she didn’t know why she didn’t immediately pull away.

She shook her head, ready to clear this up.

“No, it’s just…I needed someone to talk to. Someone that seemed to understand my problem.” 

She felt her cheeks grow hot with shame. How pathetic was it that she of all people, would seek out the bastard for some kind of stress-relieving chat. Negan was the kind of person that added stress and pissed her off whenever she left the jail. She cursed herself for thinking this was a good idea. Negan wouldn’t be able to free her from her own prison.

When she took in the man’s reaction, he looked taken aback. He was even leaning back from the bars a little.

“I’m sure Gabriel would’ve been happy to lend you an ear. Or even track master Daryl.” 

“Judith believes you’re worth talking to, so I’m giving you a chance,” Michonne clarified.

“No, I think it’s more than that,” Negan disagreed. “You want to move on from Rick. I see it. You finally realized you were holding onto the dead for too long, so now, you’re interested, in how I can help you move on, which means only one thing.”

There came the infamous smile that Negan would display when he was having just a little too much fun. Much to her frustration, her heart started to pound. Angered, she jumped to her feet.

“I just wanted to talk.”

“Are you sure?” he asked silkily as he leaned into the bars again. 

She was barely aware of her feet moving toward him as her eyes remained fixated on him. She wondered why his eyes didn’t seem as dark and cold as they had in the past. They were, dare she say, gentle. When did that happen, she wondered. 

“I’m sure.” Though she’d said it with confidence, there was a twinge of doubt bubbling in her. 

She was closing the space between them. For some reason, she started feeling glad that she had allowed Negan to shave away the long, thick beard. The trimmed version brought back a smidgen of his youth, and with the shorter hair he had the appearance of someone trying to make a change. 

“I don’t think you’re sure,” he said in a quieter tone. 

Their noses were practically touching.

“Negan we…can’t,” came her breathy reply before their lips were meeting for the second time. 

Automatically, Michonne raised her hands to cup his face while he reached a hand through the bars to cup the back of her head, bringing her in closer. The spark that’d she’d felt briefly before, was flickering strongly and spreading a nice kind of warmth throughout her being. It was like she was coming alive for the first time in a long time. She could feel the passion from the man, while she felt a sense of security and the kind of love that was absent in her life. 

Michonne hated herself for allowing him to continue, but she needed it. She needed more, and so she furthered it by deepening their kiss. A little moan erupted from Negan, but Michonne was able to prevent herself from making a sound. When they broke apart, she found herself gasping as if Negan had managed to somehow take her breath away, in the nice kind of way. 

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” Negan asked. 

A wide smile spread across his face. She refused to admit aloud that it had been good, but aside from the pleasure, there was a whole whirlwind of emotions circling within her. She wasn’t supposed to be enjoying anything from Negan, yet the fire inside her held strong for the moment. How she had longed to feel that fire again.

“Negan…we can’t do this,” she said quietly.

“That why you were so into it?” he countered. Of course he could tell that she enjoyed it.

“People can’t know.” It was the first excuse that surfaced in her head. With her eyes on the floor and a hand on the bars, she stepped back a little.

“People won’t know, so long as it’s just you and me,” he assured her. “I wouldn’t risk people keeping you away from me by blabbing.”

“That’s just it!” she suddenly cried, as if Negan’s situation had suddenly dawned on her. Tears sprung up in the corners of her eyes as the faces of Glenn and Abraham surfaced. This was a betrayal. “I shouldn’t be doing this. You’re the enemy. You…you hurt people.”

“Not anymore.” 

Her eyes snapped to him as he’d said it with such strong conviction. He looked quite serious about it. The way his eyes were shining and the way his lips were draw made her want to believe him. She started to drop her gaze to the floor again, but he lifted up her chin with his fingers so she could lock onto his eyes. 

“I fucked up and I paid for it. When I first got out of here, I promised Judith I wouldn’t hurt anyone, and I didn’t. I wouldn’t have even if I hadn’t run into her, and I sure as shit wouldn’t hurt you. I’m a changed man. You helped me change.”

“Negan.” She placed her hand on his and removed it gently from her chin. “Judith told me people can change. I’d like to believe that’s true, but I still don’t know. I…I don’t know what to feel about you. What I do know is that, right now, I feel…revived.” She blinked back the threat of more tears. “It’s more than I’ve felt in years. You did that.”

“I can do a lot more for you Michonne, if you’ll let me,” he said softly.

The tears ran and she wiped them away. 

“I don’t know if you should,” she whispered in a broken voice. The good feeling she had acquired after the kiss started to turn into something she was familiar with—heartbreak. 

“We’ll take it slow,” he said with a tone of hopefulness as he pressed into the bars as if straining to get closer to her. 

“I shouldn’t.”

“Give me a chance Michonne, please,” he begged. 

Her eyes were drawn to his lips, then they rose to meet his eyes. The fire inside started to flicker, but she didn’t feel the passion. If anything she felt relief and comfort wash over her. It was the kind of relief and comfort she hadn’t been able to receive from the others, yet somehow Negan was able to give it to her, all because he had seen there was still life present in her body. The whole thing was crazy, yet it was presented to her as if it made sense. Did it really make sense to find that kind of comfort and pleasure in Negan?

She backed away from the bars and offered a small smile. The talk hadn’t been a disaster afterall.

“Thank you.”

“Does that mean you’ll give me a chance?” Negan was gripping the bars as if his life was depending on it.

Michonne didn’t offer a reply. Instead she turned away and headed out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

No longer was Judith and Gabriel Negan’s only visitors. Michonne would often visit him for a chat whenever she could spare the time. She was careful to give others the impression that she was doing her duty of checking in with their prisoner. There was no reason for anyone to question it being that she had taken over the position from Rick. Had anyone been in the room with her as she talked to Negan, they would have been surprised at how casually Michonne talked to the man. To keep prying eyes away, she had a small curtain installed over the window. It was thin enough to allow light through, and enough of a security measure to keep Judith from disrupting whenever she came by. 

“I won’t tell her about our talks,” Negan had promised her. 

It wasn’t enough to keep her from worrying that her daughter might find out that she had fallen onto a friendly basis with a man she had warned her against speaking to. She knew she would be happy about it, but when it came to her knowing about the kisses they’d shared, she couldn’t imagine Judith dawning a smile.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Michonne often said in response. 

It wasn’t fully true. Sometimes Michonne would just talk about her day, and being that Negan hadn’t done much for the day, he would bring up some moment he missed from the past. Michonne too shared a few things from her past, the happier times anyway. In time she felt comfortable enough to share some of the pains she had experienced during her journey, like the loneliness she’d had before she’d met Andrea or the lives lost to the dead or lunatics. Negan did the same. One thing he hadn’t brought up so far was the horrible things he had done to Alexandria. Once he had just mentioned the name ‘Sanctuary’, and Michonne dropped her eyes and fell silent. Negan was quick to drop his head and apologize. Their relationship wasn’t something he wanted to break apart by reminding her of his actions.

In such moments she found herself questioning why she was bothering with him. It went away whenever she had a particularly bad night. 

“My room still feels like a prison,” she admitted to him quietly one evening.

“I know how you feel,” Negan said with a light chuckle. “But if you want, you can come down here when you can’t sleep. I consider myself good company.”

Michonne couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her lips. Sometimes it bugged her to find the man funny. When Negan just happened to really tickle her with some joke, she tried to hold in a laugh, but it never worked. She knew why it didn’t. Her soul needed it. When she had been a dead woman, there was nothing humorous to her. Judith or RJ would try something whenever they thought she was too sad, and sometimes Michonne would have to fake enjoying the joke. There was a time when she didn’t think she’d ever genuinely laugh again. 

But she didn’t always laugh in Negan’s presence. A few times she had cried. She’d bring up something that caused her to lose her breath for a minute and hunch down in her chair. Negan would always press himself against the bars as if trying to squeeze between them to get to her. He would encourage her to walk over so he could embrace her, but she wouldn’t do it. She had kissed the man twice and that was all. She couldn’t continue to seek more personal comfort in the man.

“Just let me help you sweetheart. I need to.”

Teary-eyed, Michonne looked into the eyes she now deemed as gentle. Today she had talked about Carl; about how crushed she had been when she discovered he was dying. 

“It was like…losing my son all over again,” she barely managed to say in a broken voice. “I never thought I’d see that again…not in my dreams.”

Negan said nothing as she let the tears fall. When she was able to compose herself and look at him, he was holding out his arms through the bars.

“Come ‘mere.”

Michonne stared, but then she was shakily rising to her feet and approaching him. She stopped short of the bars and stared back at a face that seemed to express the cold sorrow storming inside of her. With a trembling lip she lurched forward. The bars were cold against her cheek, yet she didn’t move away. Negan’s arms wrapped around her as best they could, and when they did, she exhaled with relief. The hands felt strong, yet soft enough to feel nice as he began rubbing circles in her back.

“I miss him too. He was a hell of a kid.”

“Yeah,” she agreed quietly. She was starting to wish the bars weren’t caught between them.

Negan was a tall man and she wanted to rest her head against his chest. The bars reminded her that he was a bad man and that crossing the boundary would be the worst thing she could do.

 

Later that night she was gazing up at the ceiling, once again unable to sleep. She sighed and looked at the empty spot on her right. She brushed it lightly with her hand. She’d made up her mind then and there.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as Rick seemed to look back at her within her mind. “I…I have to let you go. I know you’d want me to.”

Rick had always been that kind of person. Even as she and the others had attempted to reach him on the bridge, he had waved off their efforts. She of course didn’t acknowledge that. How could he ask them to turn away when he was in great need? How could he want to protect them so much that he was willing to perish for it?

She knew of course, which was why she had loved him. She recalled that frightening conversation they’d had after his near death at the abandoned carnival. He had insisted that she could lose him and be capable of continuing on. He had said it as if he was somehow at peace with the idea, just as he seemed to have been at peace with his decision to blow up the bridge and face his end. 

She had to continue on for herself and so many people. Then there was Negan at the end of it all. She pulled her hand away from the bed and dropped it over her chest. He had become her anchor after all their talks; an anchor that desired to protect and comfort her. She couldn’t imagine the Negan from seven years ago being such a person. The fact that he was now almost felt like a sign that it was right to move on. Whether it was or not she didn’t care. She threw back the sheet and grabbed the cell keys.

 

No one guarded the jail at night, so she was free to slip into the room. 

Negan was on his side facing the wall. He twitched lightly in his sleep. She smiled and moved closer.

“Negan,” she called softly. “Negan.”

He jerked then slowly rolled over. He gazed back at her as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“Am I fucking dreaming, or did a goddess just walk in here?”

“You’re not dreaming.” She stopped at the door and raised the keys. Negan became more awake when his tired eyes took in what she was doing.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to lie in bed alone. I can’t.”

He sat up on his cot looking hopeful.

“Well come on in darling. Turns out, I couldn’t sleep alone either.”

She slipped the key into the lock, then stared hard into his eyes.

“Can I trust you?” It was important that she could otherwise none of this would work. It didn’t matter how many words they’d shared together. She was about to break down the final barrier between them by opening the door.

“Look at me Michonne. You know you can trust me.”

Michonne did look and she did see, so with her breath held she turned the key and opened the door. 

Negan did nothing. He didn’t lunge to escape a second time, nor did he stand to try anything since they were alone and she was without a weapon. He simply slid over on his cot and padded the spot beside him.

“Come here darling. I got it nice and warm for you.”

She practically floated toward him and his version of a bed which looked quite inviting. There was barely enough room as she laid down in the spot before him. An arm came down and wrapped around her shoulder making her sigh. 

“If there’s more I can do for you, I’m all _ready_.”

Though she had her back to him, she knew he was smirking at the implication in his words. She grabbed his hand and after a moment’s hesitation, pulled his arm around her waist.

“Just hold me,” she whispered, “That’s all I want you to do.”

“You got it baby.”

She pressed into him as he curled over her form. Her soul seemed to laugh at the situation. They had both become prisoners. She had become a prisoner in her own room, while Negan was one in the cell. But in this case the cell door was open, and she was free to walk out anytime. Negan could have walked out, but he didn’t. She didn’t want to walk out; not now anyways. She would leave before anyone could catch her lying there. For now, she took pleasure in the warm body melting into hers as she shut her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was considering taking their relationship further in the end, but decided on building up to that for other stories to follow. Also considering the first chapter, I thought I'd go ahead and revolve it around the theme of 'prisoners' and Michonne struggling to let go. She's finally let go of Rick and is ready to move on from being an essentially 'dead' lonely woman.   
> I think it'd be interesting to see more Michonne/Negan fics crop up.

**Author's Note:**

> I liked getting a chance to explore what Michonne could be feeling, especially in regards to what happened in Part 1.  
> 


End file.
